


Shattered Reality

by queenie_writes



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 06:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenie_writes/pseuds/queenie_writes
Summary: A moment of weakness shatters the world around Ben, but when the pieces fall away what's left is better than he could have hoped for.





	Shattered Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all... This is my first fic in YEARS, but it needed to be written. 
> 
> There should be more on its way.

Eyes flutter open as though waking from a dream. Heat floods his body and for one brief moment, he’s happy. It only lasts a moment before those eyes, newly opened, glances down at the face of his best friend. Shock hits Ben first. Jake isn’t supposed to be the one standing there. He’s not supposed to be kissing his best friend. Ben Knows this. He’s known this for years. From about the moment he realized he might be a little (a lot) in love with Jake. Ben drew the line in his mind and knew it wasn’t allowed to be crossed. Jake was straight. Jake didn’t know Ben wasn’t. 

He steps back from the contact, hands dropping from where they rested on the stubbles cheek of his best friend. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words catch in his throat as he watches Jake. Up to this moment, Jake has said nothing, he hasn’t even moved. Did he respond to the kiss? Ben can’t remember but something in his mind tells him it doesn’t matter. He fucked up. 

Ben’s mind is awash of panic and fear. He can’t remember a moment in his life where he felt more scared than he is at this very moment. His heart pounds in his chest while his stomach twists in knots. His mind screams at him “what have I done?”. How could he be so stupid? He knows better than to let himself get ahead of his emotions. It’s something he’s spent time working on over the years. It’s a flaw of his, one of many, but this one in particular always manages to get him in trouble. Though perhaps not this much trouble.

The only thing that gives him even a semblance of balance and calm is the feel of his feet hitting the floor as he rushes out of the house and down the brick walkway. When did he turn to leave? He doesn’t even remember the act of twisting his body to get him out of the house. He remembers Jake’s eyes, wide and frozen, the warmth of the kiss and the feel of the stubble under his fingers as they gripped his best friend's cheek. He remembers the light taste of beer that lingered on both their lips and a flavor he can’t pinpoint but had to be strictly Jake. He’d never known the flavor before. All those memories trapped in his mind leave no room for other memories. The feel of the doorknob in his hand, as common as it is for him, fails to be recalled. He doesn’t know how he got out of the house, he just knows that he’s out and the fresh air stings his lungs as he runs. It’s a welcome feeling to the breathlessness that kissing Jake had caused. 

He doesn’t know how far he runs or for how long, the only sounds in his head are the blood rushing through his veins and his feet slapping hard on the pavement. He runs until his lungs seize and he can no longer stand the cold air. He leans against a building, unknown to him and his legs buckle. The pavement raises up to great him faster than he expects and he finds himself on his knees, skin burning under his jeans where they scrapped the ground.

Time is a construct Ben has no concept of. How long he stays on the ground on his knees, hunched forward as if praying to a god or gods he doesn’t know or believe in is beyond his ability to know. It is both too long and not long enough. His body aches from the cold, his bones feel like they're made of stone, sculpted to stay as he is with no ability to change. His mind operates in the other direction. A flipbook sped up to show all the scenes of his life as they lead up to and end with his final act. A kiss of death. 

His heart breaks as he sits there on the ground, tears sting his eyes. The wide shock on Jake’s face is the only image Ben can recall. He feels sick. It’s not the fact that he kissed Jake that tears his soul out and leaves his body bloody and broken beside it. It’s the horror in Jake’s eyes that does it. Ben knows why, too. He messed up. He had no right to kiss his best friend, even if there was a chance that Jake would want Ben to kiss him, it should have been his choice, not Ben’s. 

That’s the thing, though. It would have never been Jake’s choice in the first place. Not only did Ben remove the choice from Jake, but he also exposed himself and ruined the only good thing he had going for him. The tears run freely now. The cold seeps deeper into Ben’s body and the hatred for himself nestles like a curled up cat, purring happily in his chest. The self-destruction is content inside him, pleased with how the day turned out. 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, what he does know is at some point it stops being just him on the sidewalk. He doesn’t have the strength to look up and put a face to the presence beside him, too caught up in the ruin of his reality to care about the passersby. The presence is a shadow looming in the distance, awkward and intangible. Ben doesn’t care, they mean nothing to him. He knows, in the back of his mind that they’ll leave soon and he’ll be alone again. Free to hate himself and the new world he’s built because of his foolish actions. 

“Ben,” his name is softly spoken, a whisper on the wind. Barely audible but it’s enough to seize his heart. Long, claw-like fingers wrap firmly around the furiously pumping muscle squeezing until it can move no more. “Ben,” his name is a little louder, now. The voice more firm. 

The shadow shifts crouching down beside him and reaches forward. Firm fingers, rough from use reach out to touch his face. The pads of the hand nudge Ben’s chin in an effort to convince him to turn his face and get him to look up. “Ben, come on man, look at me.” 

He knows those fingers, knows the scent of the skin and the voice the words belong to, but he can’t bring himself to look up and see who it is. Knowing and _knowing_ are two very different things. 

“Ben, please.” 

It’s the pleading that forces Ben’s blue eyes up toward the sky. It’s overcast, cold and dark grey but the slight light in clouds is blinding. Ben blinks once. Twice. Three times before his focus shifts from the clouds to face in front of him. There’s a crease in the brow of the beautiful face and it worries Ben. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. His voice feels more like sandpaper over pavement that expected. The words barely find sound through all the crags. 

Jake’s face softens and a gentle tilt of his lips can be seen, if one knows what to look for. Ben does. “How about we talk about that back home?” Jake offers. His voice is soothing and inviting. “It’s cold out here.” 

Home. It’s a word that catches on something and snags a hole on its way down. Home. Ben and Jake live together. Roommates. It’s another layer added to Ben’s stupidity that he hadn’t already accounted for. He doesn’t know if he has a home anymore. Yet, Jake is sitting there next to him saying he does. 

“Come on,” Jake says again, nudging his arm. “I will carry you if I have to.” There’s a smile on Jake’s lips and a light in his eyes that comes with the joke but Ben is too deep in his head to see the humor in it. Fear is all he feels at the idea of Jake picking him up. He’s already made a fool of himself once today. He’d rather not do it again. 

Ben is up and standing to his full height quicker than Jake expected and he nearly toppled over trying not to get hit by the quick movements. Ben doesn’t even notice. He moves swiftly in the direction he came, slower this time. Jake catches up with him easily and they walk In Silence. Ben doesn’t know what to say. He’s apologized and it wasn’t accepted, what more is there to say? When they get home, which took very little time, perhaps he hadn't gone that far in the first place, they are supposed to talk about it. 

Back at the house, it’s the same silence only this time Ben has the ability to hide. His room calls to him and once finally inside he closes the door and slides down the frame to resume his wallowing. At least it’s warmer. 

The knock on the door comes as no shock to him but he still sighs heavily. “What?” He asks voice muffled behind fingers as they scrub frustratingly at his face. 

“Kind of thought we should, I dunno, talk?” It’s a question more than a statement and it makes Ben hate himself even more. 

“What’s there to talk about?” He asks, voice sounding as dead as he feels inside. 

Jake’s tone is flat and emotionless when he speaks, “Ben,” is all he says but he may as well have scoffed and sighed all at the same time. It was not “Ben.” As if to say his name. It was “don’t be fucking stupid.” But said singularly. It amazed him how people could turn just his name into a completely different meaning.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It meant nothing. Forget it.” Every word save for the first sentence was a lie on Ben’s lips. 

“I can’t,” comes the softer reply. “You kissed me. I think that deserves a conversation.” 

Ben really doesn’t want to have this conversation, but what choice does he have? He’s slow to get up, even slower to open the door. He guards himself as much as he can, only opening his door as much as he has to, to see Jake. “Fine. But I said I was sorry, I don’t really know what else you want from me.” 

“Are you?” He asks. Jake stuffs his hands in his pocket, rocking back on the balls of his heels. 

“Am I what?” Ben asks, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Sorry.” He looks so calm when he asks as if it’s a simple question. It’s anything but simple. 

Ben chews on the inside of his lip, the question cogitating in his mind. The reasons for a yes, were simple. Jake didn’t want the kiss. It’s messed up their friendship... yes he is sorry. 

But... 

He knows what kissing Jake feels like and that tiny memory he doesn’t want to be sorry about. 

He nods. His voice isn’t working anymore. 

“Why?” 

“Why?” Ben repeats. “Why? Because I don’t want this to ruin our friendship. I don’t want you to hate me.” 

Jake falls forward, feet planting firmly and nods, the slowness of his movement indicating he’s thinking. “And if it doesn’t do those things? Would you still regret it?” 

“What does it matter, Jake?” 

“It matters to me, Ben. You kissed me and then took off like you wanted nothing more than to get away from me.” 

All of that was true. He had taken off, but it wasn’t for the reason Jake stated. “I left because I didn’t want to see your reaction. I’m sorry, Jake. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” 

“Would you still be sorry if those things weren’t an issue?” 

It was such a strange question that the words caught Ben off guard for a moment. He stood, brow wrinkled, trying to understand what Jake could mean by the question. He barely notices the movement from his friend as he stepped closer, toeing the door open wider and revealing Ben and his room to the rest of the house. 

“I-“ Ben didn’t get a chance to consider the answer to the question before Jake was in his space, moving closer to him. He should step back, let Jake in like he wanted but the confusion hadn’t dissipated and his mind was slow to react. The moment Jake stops, chest pressed firmly against Ben’s the world starts to spin. It’s the second time in a few hours that Ben’s felt the air leave his lungs. 

“Would you?” The question is a low deep vibration through Jake’s chest as it moves into Ben’s chest. For a moment his mind short circuits. All he can do is shake his head. It’s the truth but he doesn’t even try to lie to his friend. No, if it didn’t ruin things, he would not regret kissing Jake. No, he would not be sorry. 

Jake nods. It’s a singular thing; stiff and focused. Almost as though that was the answer he was looking for. Or perhaps it was the one he expected. Ben doesn’t exactly know. He isn't known for kissing someone and vanishing. Hell, he isn’t known for kissing anyone. He’s had a few dates here and there, a girlfriend that didn’t last, due largely in part to the fact that she and Jake couldn’t seem to get along. When it came to who he was going to pick, Jake would always be the answer. 

“Good.” 

Ben nearly misses the statement, too focused on his thoughts, which are moving south fast considering Jake was still pressed tightly against him. For no reason either, in all honesty. There is plenty of room for Jake. 

“What?” Ben asks, needing clarification on the single word. It doesn’t leave much room for interpretation but also the only interpretation Ben could think of made no sense. 

“Good,” Jake says again. Ben still doesn’t understand but he doesn’t need to. Not when Jake’s hand is cupping his cheek, his thumb is lightly dragging along the edge of Ben’s cheekbone. Thoughts, every last one of them, leave Ben’s mind. The only thing he registers is the feel of Jake’s hand on his skin and the scent of his friend - warm and soothing like a winter night by the fire. The kiss, Jake’s lips pressed to Ben’s, is soft at first. Tentative and slow, unsure of itself. Ben’s mind fades to nothing more than static, Jake’s lips are soft and warm, smooth and plumb and they fit together with his. 

He stands in the doorway, back ridged and hands limp as Jake brings their mouths together. It’s a second, maybe two before Ben understands what is happening. He can feel Jake start to pull away in an effort to end the kiss. It’s the last thing Ben wants. His hand, finally able to move, finds its way to Jake’s hip, and he chases the feel of Jake’s lips, moving as the other does, keeping them connected. His fingers press tightly into the fabric of Jake’s clothing, pulling him closer. Ben takes the initiated kiss as an invitation to deepen in, pressing his lips to Jake’s and asking for more. He’s rewarded for his requested as Jake tilts his head, mouth opening to let Ben in. It’s not something Ben ever expected but the moment he’s granted access to Jake’s mouth all he wants to do is spend his time kissing him. The hand not on Jake’s hip threads fingers through his hair, holding him in place as they stand in the doorway making out. It’s like chasing a dream and hoping you never wake up because you know reality can never be this good. 

But like all things, even dreams have to end. And a kiss is limited only by the desire to remain breathing. Jake pulls back, a soft gasp for breath escaping his lips. Ben wants to protest and perhaps the small whimper he lets out is exactly that. He’s gifted a softer, quicker peck on the lips from Jake before the trance is completely broken and Ben is forcing his eyes open to look at Jake. It’s a different view than before. The shock is no longer tugging at the corner of Jake’s eyes, though the uncertainty plays with Ben’s mind. 

When is a kiss not just a kiss? 

When the one kissing you is your best friend. 

Ben pauses, collecting his thoughts and catching his breath. “You-” he wants to say more but he doesn’t know-how. He doesn’t know what to say or how to process the kiss. What he does know is that he wants to do it again. 

He doesn’t complete his sentence, too caught up in trying to wrap his head around everything. The kiss itself, the fact that Jake hasn’t moved away from him so their chests are practically touching. It’s all so much. His hand slips from Jake’s hair, the pads of his fingers dragging softly down his neck before finding their way into his own pockets. He needs to keep his hands to himself or he’ll do something he shouldn’t. The desire to not push that boundary is made harder by the soft sigh that slips through Jake’s plump lips as his eyes flicker shut. 

Jake doesn’t make the same attempt that Ben does. He doesn’t pull away. His hands stay where there are. Even as he looks at Ben, eyes holding him in place as though his feet were roots creeping into the ground, he does nothing to move away from the situation he’s created. Ben wants to ask questions, beg to understand what is happening. He wants so desperately to ask why Jake kissed him, but the words don’t exist. 

Jake smiles before a soft chuck slips from his lips. “You’re kind of stupid,” he says softly. “You know that, right?” 

Ben scoffs, eyes rolling into the back of his eye in exaggeration. “So I’ve been told.” He’s not actually dumb but he can be a little (a lot) oblivious to some things. “Though, typically I know why they’re insulting me.” Perhaps Ben should know, but he honestly didn’t 

Jake leans forward, the smile on his lips is soft and easy before he presses those lips to Ben’s again. “I wonder,” he says, the words mumbled across Ben’s lips, “If Brock or Bo won the bet.”

The laugh that slips from Jake’s lips feeds Ben’s soul but he pulls away from the kiss, his brow furrowing as he does so. “What do you mean? What bet?”

“Oh come on,” Jake says with a grin, “You don’t think those idiots were betting on how long it would take us to get together?”

“Why would they?” He’d never really talked to anyone about his feelings for Jake. He was too scared it would get back to him and mess everything up. Brock, at least knew that Ben wasn’t straight, but it wasn’t because he’d gone out of his way to tell anyone. Brock had caught him on a date a while back with a dude that didn’t stick around for longer than dessert, but it was enough to out him. Brock promised not to tell, but Ben was a bit more careful after that. 

“They make bet’s on everything, Ben. How many are you part of?” 

It was true, Brock, Bo, and Petey really did like to make bets on things. Ben and Jake participated in most of them… of course, those bets would also include bets about Ben and/or Jake. It just hadn’t occurred to him.

“Why us? Why this?” It shouldn’t be such a hard concept to grasp but for the life of him, Ben was not understanding anything. 

“Because, Ben,” Jake says as he pulls himself tighter against Ben, “You seem to be the only one that doesn’t know that I like you.” 

“You-” a smile spreads over Ben’s lips. It’s bright and wide and lights up his whole face. Apart from the kiss, he’d shared moments ago, this was the first time in what felt like a year (but was more like an hour, maybe) that Ben could say he was happy. “You like me?” He questions, but the tone of his voice is light and happy. 

“Yes, dummy,” Jake says fondly, “though I’m currently questioning why.” 

“It’s because I’m awesome,” Ben says. He feels like himself now, not the mopey scared boy he had been before. He isn’t scared of Jake or his feelings - okay maybe a little but it isn’t worth running away from. 

Jake hums softly and leans in for another kiss. Ben’s fingers twist into Jake’s hair as he responds to the kiss and pulls him in tighter. While Jake’s arms snake around Ben’s waist, Ben allows himself to fully let go. Holding back was pointless. 

The kiss is slow and languid, exploratory. For the first time since he’d placed that first kiss on Jake’s lips, Ben feels like he can be fully present for the kiss. He wants to remember the softness of the kiss, the feel of Jake’s lips - smooth, warm and firm against his. He wants to explore the warmth that spreads through him as the kiss deepens and he’s allowed the ability to explore the inside of Jake’s mouth. The moment their tongues touch a jolt of excitement and contentment runs through Ben, following the nerve pathways down his spine and through the rest of his body. 

Goose flesh prickles on his skin and he moves closer, fingers moving from soft hair down to the hard lines of Jake’s hip. His fingers dig into the skin under the loose fitted clothing and he holds on. He holds on so tight because even if he knows Jake isn’t going anywhere, he doesn’t want to take the chance that he could. 

Jake doesn’t step back, doesn’t pull away. Instead, he allows himself to be pulled closer. It’s not close enough, not for Ben, not for Jake. Ben finds himself moving backward, guided by his partner, the kiss not broken until his knees hit the edge of his bed and he’s letting Jake push him down onto it. 

The break in the kiss is so brief that he barely has time to recognize that he stopped kissing Jake. It’s not until those lips, plump and soft and warm find their way to Ben’s neck that he understands. A soft moan slips from his throat as Jake settles into his lap, legs straddling the sides, pinning Ben under him. His fingers slide through the nape of Jake’s hair while the other hand finds its way under his shirt to explore the hard planes of muscle Ben knows by sight all too well. 

It’s everything he’s dreamed of. Everything he’s ever wanted. His eyes slip shut, allowing himself to feel the way Jake sucks at his neck with bruising force. It’s going to leave a mark and Ben doesn’t even bother to protest. 

Jake’s hips move forward, sliding up Ben’s lap to get more comfortable. All it really does is alert Ben to another matter that he’s allowed himself to feign ignorance on. His body is reacting to the kisses and closeness of its own accord. His hands slip from their positions and find their way to Jake’s ass. He lifts him up a little higher, positioning him more firmly on his lap. Jake gives a little roll of his hips, either to help Ben or to emphasize the fact that Ben isn’t the only one with a growing problem. Either way, it elicits another moan from Ben and causes Jake to repeat the action. Ben meets him halfway, his own hips jerking forward as Jake’s bare down. 

All at once all the desires Ben’s held at bay come crashing in on him. His need to touch Jake and be touched by Jake takes over. His hands slip under Jake’s shirt, pushing it up. Warm, rough fingers ghost over soft smooth skin. Ben’s seen Jake without his shirt, hell Ben’s seen Jake naked, but not like this. Never like this. 

Jake pulls back from the spot on Ben’s neck that he’s worried into a bruise and pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the ground. His lips are kiss swollen and his cheeks tinged with pink, but as he grins at Ben, Ben can’t help think that Jake’s never looked better. 

“Off,” Jake says as his fingers tug at Ben’s shirt. 

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Once Ben’s shirt is pulled over his head and added to the pile Jake’s shirt started, he decides to move things along a little quicker. As much as he likes Jake in his lap, he wants to see him under him more. Jake’s heavier, but Ben’s taller. It’s not like he needs much strength to lift them both and get Jake on the bed behind them. His hands cup Jake’s ass as he stands and pivots. They land with a soft and muffled flump on the bed, disturbing the mostly made linen. 

Ben pulls back, Sits on his haunches for a moment and stares down at Jake. Jake’s hips are hiked up on Ben’s thighs, legs tangled around his back and his bare chest moves slowly up and down with every breath he takes. Ben just wants to admire the beauty for a moment. 

“Are we gonna fuck or are you just going to sit there and stare?” Jake asks, breaking Ben out of his thoughts. 

“You always spoil everything,” Ben says with a roll of his eyes. 

He lets his hands ghost over Jake’s legs and down his thighs before he pulls Jake up higher on his lap by his hips. He leans down, pressed his lips to the dip in his collarbone and lets himself get lost in the feeling of Jake under him and the sounds he pulls from Jake’s mouth. Soft moans fall from the boy under him and Ben decides within seconds that he has to hear them again. Suddenly, they’re the air that he breathes. Those soft noises are everything he wants in the world. 

He moves slowly down Jake’s body, kissing and nipping at any and all spots he can. He’s being selfish and he knows it. He just wants to make take this all in, really savor the moment. He’s dreamed about this, about being with Jake in every sense of the word, for so long and finally, he gets it. 

Jake’s fingers find their way into Ben’s hair and it’s him who lets out the little moan, now. Jake’s fingers tighten ever so slightly as Ben moves south, lower and lower on his body, lips tongue and teeth teasing delicate flesh as he does. Jake tastes like warmth and salt and smells like a fire. Remnants of his soap, the scent of which Ben is all too familiar with. He stops only when he reaches the waistband of Jake’s jeans. Blue eyes look up, searching for any sort of hesitation from the other man. Ben finds no hesitation in Jake’s eyes. What he does find drives him deeper into his desires. Jake’s teeth bite into his lower lip as he raises himself up on his elbows to watch what Ben is doing, his eyes are heavy-lidded and dark. Ben can hardly see any of the beautiful blues that normally stares back at him. 

A smirk spreads across Ben’s lips and he lets his fingers dance over the edge of the fabric before he dips low and runs the back of his finger along Jake’s skin. Jake’s head falls back softly, a moan on his lips as his hips cant up, searching for more touches. Ben can’t deny Jake anything. He never has, he’s not going to start now. He presses his hand over the zipper of Jake’s jeans, gently rubbing the ball of his palm into the bulge of the pants. His free hand works the button and zipper of the fly open so that he can get Jake’s pants off of him. It takes only a moment of diverted attention to hook his fingers in the fabric of the jeans and boxers before he’s sliding them down his friend’s legs. He pauses for a moment to focus on the shoes he’d forgotten all about before the entire ensemble hits the floor and he’s finally able to soak up the image in front of him. Jake, naked and laid out before him, hard and needy. Ben is going to store this image in his mind for the rest of his life. 

He doesn’t let himself linger too long, knowing Jake was more than likely to chirp him if he did. He’d already done it once. He starts to move back, closing the gap between the two of them when he’s stopped. Jake’s hand splays over his chest, and Ben glances down. For a moment, fear and panic flood him. Has he overstepped boundaries without realizing it? Jake would have told him he didn’t want to take this so far, wouldn’t he? 

“Pants,” Jake says with a smirk. 

“What?” Ben asks because his mind is quickly sliding back into panic mode and his ability to understand is slipping. 

“Off.” For emphasis Jake tugs on Ben’s jeans, before letting his fingers flick the button open. 

The two words, disconnected in his mind come together as he glances down at where Jake’s hand rests. “Oh, right,” he says with a little chuckle. 

He allows himself the moments it takes him to rid himself of the rest of his clothing to calm his mind and relax his heart rate. He knows Jake, knows he’d say something if this wasn’t what he wanted, but it doesn’t stop the fear from taking hold sometimes. Fear that he overstepped his place, fear of rejection, fear of ruining their friendship, it all hung in the back of his mind, waiting for him to pull on the thread of thought. 

Ben buried it down and kicked it away with his jeans and climbed back onto the bed, allowing his body to cover Jake’s completely. His fingers slid into Jake’s hair and he presses a kiss to Jake’s lips. This kiss is slow and heated, tongues slipping and sliding against each other. Neither one battles for dominance, they both exist to discover. Jake rolls them over, pinning Ben under him, their hips pressing together, trapping their dicks between them. It’s a position Ben finds he really likes. He likes it, even more, when Jake rolls his hips, experimenting with the way their bodies are connected. Ben grunts, enjoying the pressure between them and moves to meet Jake. 

It’s easy and simple, the roll of their hips, the press of their bodies. Jake’s lips on his skin - lips, jaw, neck. Ben’s hand finding its way between them, wrapping firmly around both of them as they rut against each other, adding more pressure and friction. Words fail Ben, it's one of the few times in his life that he finds the ability to be… well, he isn’t quiet but less loud. What he lacks in words he makes up for in noises, but he’s far too into everything to worry about how needy he sounds. It’s not like there was anyone in the house. It was just the two of them, anyway. 

Ben’s grip on their dicks tightens, but he makes no real effort to move his hand. The roll of their hips together does it for him, which is perhaps a good thing because his brain’s short-circuited. Possibly that happened at the start of all of this. Ben’s not sure, but his ability to do anything more than move his body based on muscle memory and desire vanished awhile ago. 

Jake’s taken control, driving the direction of their bodies, working the pair of them into a frenzy of want and need. It curls tightly in Ben’s belly, twisting and twisting, like a spring in danger of snapping in half. Or perhaps he’s walking a thin edge, barely maintaining the line, flirting with death were he to slip and fall over the cliff. Either way, he couldn’t prevent the snap of the coil or his feet slipping off the side of the cliff. He didn’t want to prevent it. 

His mind feels like static, fuzzy and numb and weirdly excited and loud. His thoughts are blank, his body reacting as though stunned, frozen mid-movement. The hand not between them, digs into the muscles in Jake’s shoulder, holding on for dear life. It’s only when he comes down that he understands what exactly happened. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he understood, but as the ground rushed up to meet him, he couldn’t be sure of anything other than the blinding pleasure and rush of excitement that he was feeling.

As feeling comes back to him, he’s able to realize he’s not the only one slowed down, near-frozen in time. His mind focuses quickly, taking in the image of Jake on top of him, cuming because of him. It’s a beautiful image, one Ben had never considered being allowed to see, let alone be the cause of. He moves Jake through the orgasm and waits for him to relax. His weight, limp and helpless as it is, is a welcome feeling. Ben makes no effort to move, but Jake finds the will and strength to shift off of Ben. 

Ben doesn’t even realize that Jake’s moves, too blissed out and out of touch. He nearly jumped when something soft touches his skin. Glancing down, he realizes that it’s Jake using one of their discarded shirts to clean him up. 

“You’re a mess,” Jake says with a grin. 

“Whose fault is that?” Ben chirps back because he wouldn’t be him; they wouldn’t be them if he didn’t. 

“Still yours,” Jake volleys back. “If you weren’t so hot… and dumb, we wouldn’t be here.” 

“Where is here?” Ben asks because of course, he does. He can’t have nice things, he should know this by now. 

“Your bed?” Jake sounds confused and Ben’s almost happy for it. 

Only…

“That’s not what I mean, Jake.

Jake hums softly, lips pursing as he thinks. “Let me take you to dinner.” It wasn’t a question. “That’s what you do on first dates.” 

Ben smiles. “Okay,” he says before doing his best to pull his smile and look indignant or haughty. “But I can’t promise I’ll put out on the first date. That’s kind of slutty.” 

Jake laughs and leans in to steal a kiss. “Lucky for me,” he says, “I already know you are.” 

Ben wants to protest, but Jake’s swooping in for another kiss and he can’t help but drag Jake back on top of him. He loves the feel of the weight of him on him. 

In bed is where they stay for the rest of the evening. A nap, some exchanged discussion on the location of the first date, and a few missed calls from both their friends are the only things that mark the passage of time while they lay in Ben’s bed, limbs tangled in sheets and each other. 

Ben could exist solely at this point in time and live happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought. You can also follow me on Tumblr. 
> 
> https://turbooterrorvainen.tumblr.com/ or c-hartwriteshockey.tumblr.com when it's no longer spoopy time. 
> 
> Thanks babes!


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